Doing something with nothing, or, Museums in the 21st Century

So I'm kind of in a funk. Sitting in the basement of my sister museum in my off season office is certainly one of the most anti-climactic experiences one can have. I mean, who wants to stare at a cubicle wall for 8 hrs a day. Frankly it's the basement part that kills me, with the tiny window... poor air circulation. It flooded last spring, too; one of the risks of the historic house museum, I suppose.

I think I finally understand cubicle humour.
(from thecubiclesurvivalguide.blogspot.com)

For me, the real tragedy isn't the loss of my glorious window with views of the river and appalachian mountain range. <sigh> It's the fact that I now have no excuse to wander. Yes. I'm a wanderer, or perhaps am simply undiagnosed with adult ADD, whichever.
I have the habit, during the museum season, of working at my desk for a certain amount of time (say, 1 hr), then going downstairs to talk to the staff, get some fresh air, speak with visitors, etc. for a few minutes before I return to my desk refreshed. It works for me. Stuff gets done and I don't have a nervous breakdown.

Now, there's no reason to do any of that. I have no reason to leave my cubicle other than to prepare my lunch, make coffee, get water and go pee. And frankly, there are only so many times you can do those before people start to wonder if there's something wrong with you. I could just do what I did at my museum, and go stand in the front door and admire the view for a few moments, but I'm pretty sure my colleagues would have me institutionalized if they saw me staring whistfully at the parking lot.

In the end all of these solutions appear to end with a workplace intervention of some kind, which isn't ideal for anyone. Least of all me.

Regardless, I have to adapt. And adapting is something that museums (and museum professionals) do very well. We have to.

No money? No problem; volunteers and grants, baby. Not to mention the joys of third-grade-science-fair-grade exhibits. (Let's not lie: We've all seen them. Most of us have made one at some point in our career.)

No staff? No problem; more volunteers and, well, let's look closely at the "other related tasks" portion of your job description. Yep. If it happens at the museum, it's related. I think we all have stories. I've done everything from pest control, to janitorial, to electrical... Not to mention my most recent task (assigned last week) to organise someone else's event in two weeks. Awesome. But yeah, I can do it.

No museum? Hasn't stopped the people at the Portrait Gallery of Canada. They find the most creative ways to display their collection and to reach people, all without having an actual building. To be fair, they are part of the National Archives, and probably have more money than 10 of my museums, but they're still doing something with nothing. They've been displaying reproductions of their portraits in public areas in Ottawa for about 5 years now, to much success.

A young yours truly pointing out the portraits hung on the Rideau Canal during Winterlude in 2006.
" Okay, we found 'em. Now can I have my Beavertail?"

Is that a threat?
Nope, just reality.

The topic for the 2011 Canadian Museums Association Conference was " Evolve or DIE!" I have to admit that I can't read that title without a chuckle. I mean, it's true. How many sad, sad museums are there that are stuck in the past and what it used to mean to be a museum? All this "we are awesome monoliths of knowledge" and "we know what you should know; here it is". It's crazy. Things change and so should museums. Just because museums are places that preserve the past doesn't mean that they need to preserve their own past. We're all struggling in our own ways, but if you want to remain relevant to today's visitor, you have to cater to them. The times, they are a changin'.

In the meantime, if I whine on and on about my museum closing and my office cubicle, perhaps I should be following my own advice. I don't work in my current situation, so I'd better make the necessary changes and evolve, myself. Or at least find a better excuse for my wanderlust.